with pretty much everything I do. Perhaps we all go through phases. But I hate to generalize my experience to other people.
I just know that now that I’m nearing the end of my 12-week stay in Tasmania, I find myself looking at everything differently than I did just a few weeks ago and feeling completely differently too.
At first, I didn’t mind being alone too much. It’s not that different from my life at home. We live about 12 miles from town and I work at home. So, there are a lot of days that I don’t see anybody but the RNK. That’s OK. I don’t mind. I didn’t mind too much here either because when I first got here, I had tons of work with me. Very busy.
Then not so busy. I started to feel really trapped. I didn’t want to use the car here because it didn’t seem right to run the house owner’s car all over the place. About the time I got super stir crazy, I rented a car and put 2,300 km on it. I covered a lot of turf.
Then the rental car went back and I had work again. Busy, busy. Now, the newsletter’s done, and I’m here and oddly enough, I’m not going stir crazy. I get out some. For example, I went to Hobart yesterday for the TasKnitters Ravelry group snb. Last Wednesday, I went to the post office.
The past couple of days, I sat and knitted without having to think about anything. I listen to the birds and the wind and the little eucalyptus thingies that hit the metal roof and the cars off in the distance and all the other things that one hears when one doesn’t have that running monologue that accompanies so many of my days. The one that says, “well, just two more hours and you need to have this project done, then you have to get started on the project for so-and-so, and when you are running the errands, be sure to remember you need to pick up the new shoe laces for the tennis shoes and while you’re at the store, you might as well run across the street and check out the . . . yada yada yada” Does it ever quit? I often found myself wondering that. Now I know the answer. Yes, it does.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that I am having some transcendental meditational experience. No, not that. It’s still just plain old me. I’m knitting. I’m not becoming enlightened or anything like that at all. It’s just that there isn’t anything I have to do. I don’t have to think about a project or errands or anything really. Sometimes I think about taking a nap.
My “job” right now is to be here. Pet the dog. Take care of the horses. Feed the mouse. It just doesn’t take a lot of thought.
Meanwhile, I am also going through phases with the project I’m working on. As I believe I have mentioned before, I picked the pattern because I liked all the texture.
I liked that it’s the kind of pattern that has a 16-row repeat that has two eight-row repeats inside of that and then there are decreases and increases and many of those alternate between every sixth and fourth row. It’s just a heck of a lot of fun. I also like that the resulting knit has a tremendous amount of warmth because of all that texture, yet it’s not all that heavy. And surprisingly, it seems to have a nice drape. I used a superwash merino instead of the cotton the pattern calls for and it’s all springy and squishy and it feels kind of nice — if you have your eyes closed.
But now that I have the back and both fronts done, it’s a heck of a lot of texture. I think it’s too much. It’s overwhelmingly textured. Fortunately, I’m only in the not-liking stage. I haven’t reached the part of the project where I think that I better finish it so I can burn it. That may be coming; but, so far, I just think it’s ugly. It’s still fun to knit. I still like the color. I guess I’m reserving judgement because I have hope that the way it feels will make up for the way it looks. Right now, I see it as the kind of sweater you can’t wait to put on in the winter on a cold Sunday morning, but that you change out of when it’s time to go to town and look presentable.
It’s not all frantic knitting though. Sometimes, I go outside and look at the pretty flowers.
Sometimes, I take a nap.